


Direct Line of Sight

by Winterstar



Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-23
Updated: 2013-05-23
Packaged: 2017-12-12 19:11:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,955
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/815016
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Winterstar/pseuds/Winterstar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>During battle one of Clint’s arrows goes astray. </p><p> </p><p>  <i>It's not the arrow to the gut that surprises him; rather it is the fact that he doesn't feel the pain right away. In the heat of a fight, the swarm of emotions and stimuli battling for attention can make it impossible to focus on just one thing. He sees the arrow, in fact, he watched as Hawkeye launched it. It should have aimed true, Hawkeye does not miss. Yet, he did. His aim went awry when one of the things invading from the Nine Realms smacked him upside the head at the same time he loosed the arrow. Steve had turned, yelled a warning of the oncoming assailant, but he'd been too late. The arrow, instead of flying to the enemy Steve had engaged, pierced him through the abdomen. </i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Direct Line of Sight

**Author's Note:**

> This story grew out of a meme where elrhiarhodan prompted me to say what are some of the things I would like to write about Tony and Steve.
> 
> I decided to write this today because I needed a break from all of my longer projects (of which there are far too many right now)...so this is the result of trying to clear my mind. Hope you enjoy it!

It's not the arrow to the gut that surprises him; rather it is the fact that he doesn't feel the pain right away. In the heat of a fight, the swarm of emotions and stimuli battling for attention can make it impossible to focus on just one thing. He sees the arrow, in fact, he watched as Hawkeye launched it. It should have aimed true, Hawkeye does not miss. Yet, he did. His aim went awry when one of the things invading from the Nine Realms smacked him upside the head at the same time he loosed the arrow. Steve had turned, yelled a warning of the oncoming assailant, but he'd been too late. The arrow, instead of flying to the enemy Steve had engaged, pierced him through the abdomen. 

For only a handful of seconds, Steve considers it. That is all the time he has. He reaches to pull it out, to get rid of it, but the goon who had been Hawkeye's original target is upon him. Steve turns to struggle against it. It looks like something out of one of those movies, The Lord of the Rings, his team made him watch, something like an orc or a goblin. It batters him with a weapon that is the cross between a hammer and an ax. He flings his shield protected arm up to halt the swing of the bastardized weapon, and then punches the thing in the soft spot of the armor. He feels the crush and crunch of ribs, fracturing, cracking as his fist slams into his opponent. At the same time, though the arrow tears at tissue and his foe jabs it further until it rips through organs, muscle, sinew, skin, until it is speared through his back. He kicks upward with a knee to the groin area, his opponent falters and Steve is able to kick it to the ground and knock it out with a quick bash to the head with his shield. 

Before he can assess the arrow punctured through his body another horde of alien invaders race at him and he turns himself over to the frenzy of the battle. He hears the others calling out their positions, listing what's coming and who. He commands, gives them orders, forgets he is a casualty of war. He jerks to the side and he uses his shield to incapacitate another assailant to see Iron Man fly over their position. He stops as Iron Man hovers, braces for the repulsor blast at his shield, and angles it to fire directly at the mass circling him. As Iron Man follows his movements Steve's able to draw a line of destruction through the oncoming enemy line with the blast. He nods as Iron Man lifts off again to assist Black Widow on her front. 

It will take another three hours to contain the invasion. They are lucky this was just a scouting party to test them according to Thor. With little military assistance, the Avengers are able to hold the line and drive them back into the portal they opened. It is Jane Foster who figures out how to close down the portal and keep them at bay for at least the immediate future. By the time the battle is only smoke, fragments of buildings, and people appearing from their crouched hidden places, Steve realizes the arrow's shaft broke at some point. The tail of it is long gone. He pulls aside the torn Kevlar, the shredded fabric of his uniform, and sees the pink skin healed over the impact point. He reaches around his back and, as he does, something inside stretches and pulls. It hurts and he stifles a groan. He can feel where the arrow point emerged but it must have been wrenched off at some point during the fight as well. There's only a tender indentation and no hole.

The shaft of the arrow - he closes his eyes. Damn it to hell and back, he thinks and then apologizes mentally to Sister Mary Angelo for his profanity. 

The team has gathered near the closest bank of National Guard trucks and a cluster of tanks. There are ambulances and fire trucks weaving through the rubble. Everyone takes stock during the first moments after a battle. Are they all alive? Check. Any life threatening injuries? No. Any injuries at all.

Widow has a black eye which is entirely uncharacteristic that anyone came that close to her. She shrugs and says she was a little busy at the time and he got his. 

Tony's armor has seen better days and his face looks bruised but no blood this time. "Gonna hurt tomorrow, won't deny that." He smiles but keeps studying Steve.

Bruce is still wandering around as the Hulk. He looks like he might be hungry so Steve notes it and decides they should order something for Bruce, the man is going to be starving by the time he transforms. When Steve turns back to his group, he notices Tony tilting his head and glaring at him but decides it might be better to ignore it. Much of what Tony does is in the ignore category.

Thor doesn't have a scrape on him, but Hawkeye looks like he might throw up at any moment. He took a hard bash to the head when he shot that infamous arrow which is now lodged inside of Steve. He looks about ready to fall over.

"Hawk?" Steve says and it is all that needs to be said because as he watches, Hawkeye slowly falls to the ground. Steve dashes across the short distance and grabs him before his head meets the ground. "Ambulance?"

As he waves to the paramedics on the perimeter, Tony yells, "Over here."

Natasha kneels next to Steve as two of the paramedics jostle through the gathering crowds to get to them. One of the paramedics, a young man with his hair pulled back in a ponytail, lays the stretcher down, buckles a brace around Clint's neck, and then helps Steve to position him on the mobile stretcher. Steve stumbles away, feeling like a hot poker just jabbed him in the ribs from the inside. He moves away, still on his knees, to allow the paramedics better access to his injured team mate. The rod shifts and he gulps for breath on his hands and knees. He's grateful everyone else is focused on Hawkeye for the moment. He needs to get on his feet, but fails. A noise interrupts his private bout with the pain and he looks up to see the Hulk transform to Bruce, and Tony running to his side. Everyone is taken care of, everyone is fine. He can release his hold; he doesn't have to continue to ensure the safety of his team, his people, his family. 

Everyone is okay.

He wavers on unsteady feet as he stands. When he attempts to straighten, the thing in his gut protests and he cannot muffle the yelp of surprise. Tony abandons a naked Bruce to the hands of a fireman helping him with a blanket.

"Cap?"

Steve shakes his head. He feels nauseated and light headed, airless like his breath has been stolen directly from his lungs. His body shudders as Tony places a hand between his hunched shoulder blades. He thinks he might vomit, but the thought of the retching and upsetting the spear wedged within his gut stops him, forces him to hold it in. He grunts against it, fighting it.

"Cap, Steve, damn it, you're fucking scaring me."

He wants to explain, but his breathless voice cannot find the sound. He murmurs in a rasped whisper, "Arrow."

"What? Can you explain? What the hell?"

It is then he hears a groan from the crowd around Clint, he recognizes Natasha's voice warning Clint not to get up. Steve is dropping and cannot track the motions of others. Tony wraps his arms around Steve's broad shoulders. He reaches up to cup Tony's cheek. It only seems like yesterday, it only seems like today that they began this thing between them. From hot rage to tender touches, it feels more like a dream as he sinks into the pain overwhelming his system.

"He's been shot," Clint is saying.

Tony's hand searches along Steve's mid-section. "I don't see any bullet holes. No blast weapon wounds."

"Arrow, I hit him with an arrow." Clint drops down, the last of his sentence garbled and stung with pain.

"Jesus, Jesus," Tony says and has his hand on Steve's face, forcing Steve to focus on him. "Did you get hit? Did you get shot with an arrow?"

"I'm sorry, Tony," Steve mumbles and he kicks out his leg once to cause pain so he'll remain conscious. 

"He hit you with an arrow? Where the hell is it?" Tony says. 

When he answers, he sees all of the blood drain from Tony's face. "Inside."

"Jesus," Tony swears and then cries out, "Paramedics, over here."

"Tony," Steve whispers, the pain- so clear and bright- it feels like it might blind him. "Tony." He can taste metal, he can taste blood now.

"Steve, don't," Tony says and pulls him close against his shoulder. "Steve, stay with me. Stay with me."

"Steve?" Bruce bends over him and peels back an eyelid. He palpates Steve's abdomen and Steve grimaces in response. “I can feel it. We need to move him now; he has to get this out before it interrupts any vital functions." 

The last thing he remembers is Tony's hands on his face, Tony's mouth on his lips, Tony promising him to remain. He's not sure he can do the same.

*oOo*  
When they slice into his skin, when they surgically manipulate the shaft impaled inside Steve's abdomen, Tony holds back the need to vomit. His mind spins in ever increasing erratic circles. He wants to call out for JARVIS, but he's out of the suit and his safety net is nowhere close. He stares through the window to the surgical suite on the Helicarrier. The observation room is restricted access and only permits other medical personnel, but just let them tell him he's not allowed in here, just let them try. 

The surgeons rage on about how the flesh and organs healed around the shaft, how blood vessels are bulging with undelivered blood readying to burst, how organs have become cyanotic with blood supplies cut off, but haven't died as the serum continues its course to resurrect dying tissues. All the while as they work, Steve oscillates in a semi-conscious state. The anesthesiologist pumps him full of sedatives, but he's still waking periodically, still crying out, still falling back into a pain filled doze. Tony rocks back and forth in front of the window. He doesn't think he can stand it; he rests his forehead on the glass and stares. He ignores his own reflection in the glass, the etch of worry, the long stretch of his skin over bones. He’s broken if Steve doesn’t make it.

Thor comes to him and stands like a sentinel by his side. He is remarkably still for such a huge man, or god, or alien, or whatever the hell he's supposed to be. 

As Steve struggles again and finally, fuck finally succumbs to his semi-conscious state again, Thor speaks in a quiet timbre. "You are a brave man, Tony Stark."

He doesn't feel brave, he feels scared and lost, like the little boy he was when he wandered away during the Macy's Thanksgiving parade all those years ago. It terrifies him as he watches the doctors try and extract the shaft of the arrow while working to repair damaged organs. "I don't feel brave."

"Many confuse bravery with bravado. There is a difference. I know, I have experienced this myself," Thor says as he turns to consider Tony. "I do not think I could stand and watch as you do. I do not think I could let my loved one go to battle beside me. I do not think it would be possible to have such courage."

Tony swallows down the turning of the fear, the coil of worry. "I don't want him in battle, if I could put him in a box somewhere and lock him in I would. He takes so many hits, so much damage but he still gets up."

"He does not surrender. He fights for us all," Thor remarks.

"He's a god damned idiot," Tony says and he grasps onto the anger because it feels familiar and so much easier than sorrow and fear. It is like a cloak, or better, a weapon.

Unfortunately, Thor doesn't lend him the leeway. "You must not let anger and fear crowd your judgment of him. He is a good man and a fearless leader. He is what this world needs."

Before Tony is able to answer, Natasha walks through the door and says, "Doctors say Clint's concussion is mild. They're releasing him with instructions to rest."

"I'm not resting," Clint says as he follows Natasha into the now cramped observation room. 

Without thought, Tony springs at Clint and shoves him up against the wall. Natasha wraps an arm around Tony’s throat to yank him away, but he clutches onto Barton and curls his fingers into his shoulders. "What the hell did you do? You have god damned arrows that curve to their targets and you hit him, you shot Steve."

Clint has his hands in the air in surrender. His eyes are wide and his face looks pale and drawn. "It wasn't a seeker, I wasn't using seekers. It was a normal arrow."

"With an armor piercing tip."

"It's what I fucking use, Stark."

"Please, brother in combat and in heart, release him. He is your family; I understand how this must feel to you. But he did not act maliciously, but honorably. You know this," Thor says as he jerks Tony's hands away.

Slowly, Tony opens his hands and lets Barton go, while Natasha pulls away. He coughs once and rubs at his neck. She has a mean choke hold. "Okay, okay." He starts to apologize to Barton but the man just waves him off.

“Don’t Stark, don’t.” Barton looks toward the window, but Tony cannot follow his gaze. The pain, the reality clouds everything and smothers him. Barton only whispers, “Not him, dear God, not him.”

Bruce walks into the room and, when Tony meets his eyes, he sees it. He races to the window. The doctors are gone. Steve and a single nurse are still in the room. "He's dead, Jesus, he's dead."

Bruce grips Tony’s shoulder and says, "No. They just finished up. The nurse is monitoring him until he's awake and fully conscious. Once he is, they'll move him to a separate bay monitoring area."

Tony doesn't know who catches him when he collapses.

*oOo*  
The first thing he notices is the fact that his abdomen doesn't feel like it’s trying to twist its way out of his belly like some kind of strange and grotesque alien in that film Clint insisted on watching. The second thing he comes to feel is the soft tangled mass of hair under his right hand.

He opens his eyes and turns, even turning his head hurts, and catches a glimpse of Tony with his head perched on the side of the bed. The bed rail is down and Tony hangs along the side of the gurney his arms folded under his head, Steve's hand cupped over his head like a shelter.

Steve cards his fingers through mop of hair, finding a certain solace in the motion. His torso aches a beat with every breath and he wonders how long it has been since the horror of the operating room. There's an intravenous line hooked to the back of his hand and he looks up to see it is just a dextrose solution. They must have given up on pain medication a while ago. It never works, no matter what they do. If they dose him with the amounts they need to overwhelm his system, it borders on poisoning him. It’s an all or nothing game. He tries not to think of the phantom memories, the pain of surgery.

The head beneath his fingers moves and he smiles down as Tony peers up at him. 

"Hey." His voice is dry and cracks.

“Hey," Tony says and fumbles about until he finds the ice chips on the side table. "Here you go." 

He spoons some of them into Steve's mouth. The cubes start melting on contact and it feels wonderful. He smiles. Tony literally deflates and closes his eyes. He puts the cup and spoon down and covers his face for a minute. When he composes himself again, he looks up and says, "Christ, don't ever do that to me again."

"Rub your head or get shot?"

"Stop being a dick," Tony replies but clenches Steve's hand so hard the intravenous line stabs at him. 

"I'll try to step out of the way next time."

Another voice chimes in to say, "You do that."

They both turn to see Clint standing next to the curtain in the small medical bay area of the Helicarrier. He hangs back as if he's leery of Tony. 

"Clint," Steve says and waves him to enter. Clint doesn't move just waits and Steve realizes he's awaiting permission from Tony. "Tony."

"Okay, okay," Tony says and stands. 

"Do you mind if I?" Clint points to Steve but still lingers on the outside perimeter of the curtained area. 

"A minute." Tony says with a hot look of anger and a warning on his face.

"No problem," Clint replies as Tony leans over kisses Steve's forehead and pats his hand. When he disappears through the curtains, Clint turns back to Steve. " I wanted to-."

"It isn't necessary. You aren't taking the blame for this one."

"It's my prerogative to and I will. It was my shot, I shouldn't have taken it." Barton closes his arms over his chest, his expression strained and shaken. "I have better control than that. I know better than to loose an arrow when I don't have a clean shot."

"You had a clean shot until you were whacked on the head."

"You were nearly killed."

"I hardly believe that."

"Tell that to Stark," Clint says and then steps closer to Steve. "You mean a hell of a lot to him, to all of us. You don't get it, Cap. You just don't. You’re the center. When- after- Loki." Clint does a little dance with his fingers indicating his head. "When Loki played around up there, you could have left me out of the action; you could have just picked up any other pilot. You didn't. You didn't even hesitate to trust me."

Steve remains silent. Sometimes a man has to speak his piece and his peace.

"You have to understand, you're more than the accomplishments of one man, you're more than that to us, to all of us. If you ever-." Clint bites back the words. "Just know, I got your back. No one's gonna do that again to me, ever. I got your back."

Steve knows better than to argue with guilt and resolve. He knows in order for Hawkeye to feel whole again, he has to make this vow. He knows, because he understands, he's felt failure. One of the biggest reasons he defeated the Red Skull was because he failed Bucky and he refused to fail him again. In his memory, Steve found the courage, and the bravery to stand up again and to fight again. 

"I'd expect nothing less," Steve says.

Clint purses his lips, nods, and says, "Thanks." He walks to the curtain, pushes it aside to find Tony waiting, steps around him, and leaves.

When Tony settles down in the chair again next to his bed, Steve says, "Don't make him feel like that again."

"You didn't see- you-."

"You think I didn't? You think I don't know?" Steve says and sits up. It hurts so he eases back into the pile of pillows. Every ounce of strength seems sapped from him. "I do know. I understand. We all make sacrifices, Tony. We all try to do the right thing. Sometimes even when we try our damnest, it doesn't work and the world tramples on us, pulverizes us."

Tony rocks forward once in his chair, his hands still folded in his lap. "I get you, I do."

"Do you?"

He looks up at Steve, reaches with his hand, and slips his fingers through Steve's. "How'd you get to be so wise?"

"Seventy years in the ice leaves you with a lot of time to think," Steve says with a bit of mirth, but even as he chuckles it pulls on something inside. He curls around his torso and presses his hand to his abdomen.

Tony's by his side in seconds. "Hey, hey, you okay? You okay?"

Steve clenches his teeth, relaxes, and says, "Yeah, just a little pull. Still healing."

"Lots of healing to do," Tony says as he brushes a hand down the line of Steve's cheekbone, to his lips. He graces his thumb along Steve's lower lip. "You scared me, Capsicle."

"You scare me all the time."

Tony laughs, but it isn't one of joy but of relief. "That's my job. Your job is to be responsible." 

He leans over the bed and touches their foreheads together. 

Steve rides his hand up to cup Tony's jaw. In a bare whisper, he says, "I'm the youngest one on the team, you know."

“Hmm, it’s like giving the keys to the convertible to the teenager in the house. Is that what you’re telling me?”

“I’m a little older than a teenager.”

"But, perhaps I still need to teach you a lesson or two." A breath of air and Tony kisses him, light and soft. He smells of cologne, and love, and worry. He smells like metal; he smells like home.

"Perhaps I need a lesson, perhaps I need more," Steve says and opens to him. 

The sound of the kiss drowns out the beep of the monitors, the drone of the engines. It consumes and denies all else. 

Tony breaks away and says, "Don't ever fucking do that to me again. You get injured you evacuate. You call me, you don’t keep fighting."

Steve wants to protest, but he can't. The earnest look on Tony's face is so foreign, so absolutely heartbreaking, he has no other choice. He never wants to hurt Tony again like he did today. "Don't let me; don't let me, ever again."

Tony crawls into bed with him and they curve into one another, wrapped together in the tangle of sheets and wires. He doesn't know what happened. He doesn't understand it all. What he does know surprises him. He thought at one time he would give anything to go back, to find his time again, but now he realizes this team, this man is where he belongs. An arrow flew through him, struck him true. It pinned him in place and made him realize how very much he is loved and does love. He’s pinned here but not like some captured butterfly, instead he’s been sent free to embrace love and family.

"Never," Tony murmurs into his shoulder and Steve holds on all the tighter, harder, because he knows something, somewhere will tear apart their perfect moments. For now, for today, he holds on, because he only has today, not yesterday or the future.

"Love you," he whispers.

He doesn't wait for Tony's reply because he already knows it as he devours his mouth with a kiss.

THE END

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for your time. Kudos to you for spending part of your day with me.


End file.
